


The Next Life

by cream_pudding



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Sex, Angst, Danger, Enthusiastic Consent, Escape, Established Relationship, Forbidden Love, Gay Sex, Gift Fic, Imprisonment, M/M, Pirates, Rescue Missions, Secret Santa, Smut, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 18:04:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cream_pudding/pseuds/cream_pudding
Summary: Roxas has known Axel for five years. They always meet the same way - in a prison cell.





	The Next Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ConsumingRomance (CameoAmalthea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameoAmalthea/gifts).



> This is a secret santa gift. I hope you enjoy the story. I went with the star-crossed lovers and a bit of fearplay prompts. I know you aren't all too interested in smut, so please forgive my personal indulgence.
> 
> Thanks to AutumnPlants for reading through this for me!!

The heavy rope thudded and clanked against the metal rod of the flagpole, whipping around as if it were made from silk in the howling, restless winter winds which encroached from the north. The chill’s icy tendrils even reached this far south to Locksmourth, a sturdy and dark-granite beast of a castle which withstood centuries of storms broiling up the seas and skies around it. The castle stood atop a precariously steep cliff-face, staring out over the black ocean beyond, a sentinel and protector of the land it was rooted to, and a warning to those who drew near with foul intentions in their hearts.

The morning sun had not yet kissed the sky. A young man stood atop the north-facing parapet. His heavy dark-blue fleece overcoat was wrapped tightly around his trim frame. Gloved hands squeezed the life out of an old rusted metal chain which hooked into the low-rise dark-gray stone wall he stood before. The wind tugged him mercilessly, threatening to take him with it on its southward journey if he dared to ease up on his grip. His shoulders sat up around his ears as he hunched down, trying to keep his neck warm as his short blond hair didn’t stop the draft from racing down his back. He licked his wind-burned lips while he stared down toward the inlet where Locksmourth’s bay lay sheltered from the unforgiving sea, encircled by treacherous rocks and a sandbank which many would-be pirates had run aground on. 

The ocean was wild and unruly for close to a month now and filled Roxas with nothing but dread and despair. But the sight of Admiral Lockwood’s grand galleon safely docked and harbored at the wharf below, finally, allowed the heavy burden of worry to roll off his chest. It had arrived an hour ago and Roxas had been up there for just as long watching, waiting, and sickeningly enough… _hoping_.

The blue gloom of the early morning made it hard to see, but Roxas could make out movements of people milling about. Shouts of the men below, giving orders and busying themselves with debarkation drifted up along with the almost deafening roar of the wind. His father’s crew—easily identifiable by the striking white caps and stiff blue uniforms—were unloading the ship of cargo, goods, and (of course), prisoners. 

The prisoners were eventually ushered out, single file, chained, shackled, and bound by hand and foot. Theirs was a slow and sober march of bowed heads and forlorn hope—bar one. Even in the dark of the early morning and from such a remote distance, Roxas could make out the redheaded figure with his head held high, and seemingly making conversation with his captors.

Roxas watched the procession disappear into the castle and then left his windy lookout to descend the dark stone steps, which were only illuminated by the defensive slits hewn out of the thick stone walls letting in the faint light from outside.

He stopped by the infirmary which was starting to fill up with his father's men who had been injured on their month-long voyage across the sea.

Mertle and Zigbee, an old, crotchety, but loving couple (and his families loyal servants) were overseeing the men; stopping bleeding, tending wounds, telling some of the men to suck it up because it was just a graze and not deserving of anything more than a good clean.

“Morning young master,” Zigbee greeted when he caught sight of Roxas near the medical cabinets. “Surprised to see you out of bed so early.”

Roxas didn’t afford the old man a glance. He was busy looking at various bottles of ointments. “I heard the bells toll and couldn't sleep.”

“You'll be checking on the prisoners?” Zigbee didn't really need to ask because he knew the answer already.

“Yes.” Roxas put the bottles he had been looking at in his thick leather-hide medical satchel, grabbed a large roll of gauze and anything else he could find that looked useful, stuffing it in the bag and snapping it shut. He exchanged some pleasantries with Zigbee, wished Mertle a good morning and headed back out to the lofty hallways. He took a right and headed toward the kitchen where he tucked some bread, cheese, an apple, and a pear into his satchel while Old Nel wasn't watching. He then made his way to the stairwell that descended down to the castle's cells.

It was dark, cold, and musty down there. The damp ocean breeze that wafted through the entire castle sank down to the very lowest level, but none of the freshness remained. Instead, it festered and turned into a briny sludge on the walls and left a thick sort of clamminess all over the skin—if anyone stayed down there too long.

He reached a heavy oak door at the end of a dark, torch-lit corridor. The door required all of Roxas’ strength to push open and once he was inside he said, “Morning Feeny,” by way of greeting the gap-toothed, weather-beaten warden who sat at a small desk inside the long and gloomy chamber that housed the 10 prison cells.

“Young master, Roxas. Bit early to be up already. And checkin’ on prisoners? They can stand t’ bleed a little more,” Feeny croaked hoarsely and chuckled.

“I was up anyway so I thought I could make myself useful.” Roxas put his satchel on the desk, opened it up and broke the bread he had gotten from the kitchen in half, and set it down before Feeny, along with a bit of cheese.

“Ah, thank'ee young master. Yer too good to me 'n’ these scumbags.”

Roxas flashes a smile and shrugged. “Are they all settled in? Is it okay for me to go check on them?”

“O’ course.”

Roxas went from cell to cell, getting up on tiptoes to be able to see through the narrow bars of the small windows that were cut into the thick and heavy wooden doors. He asked each of the prisoners in turn, “Do you need any medical attention?”

Roxas received the usual surly responses and scoffs from a handful of prisoners, and some pleas for help, water, and medicine from others. He obliged those as best he could, entering the cell with one of Feeny’s men close at hand should any trouble arise. It hardly ever did though, and Roxas had enough hand-to-hand combat training to look after himself on the rare occasion someone tried to get at him—usually to hold him hostage and bargain for their freedom.

Cell after cell Roxas’ heart sank. The redhead he had seen wasn’t in any of them. Roxas got to the last cell and still had no luck. He cleaned and sutured the cut this prisoner had received to his thigh and then went back to Feeny.

“All good now, young master?”

Roxas nodded and rested his now much-lighter satchel on the wooden desk.

“I don’t understand why yer bothers with t’ miscreants. They’ll jus’ be strung up t’ hang in a few days ‘n’ weeks.”

“It is good practice for me, and some of them might be found innocent.” Roxas couldn’t recall how many times he and Feeny had repeated this conversation over the years.

“Yer go’ta good heart, young master.”

Roxas smiled. “Um… Feeny… are these _all_ the prisoners?”

Wild brows crinkled, leaving a very dark look on the wardens face. “Why yer askin’?”

“Because I saw _him_ with the rest. Where is _he_?”

“Admiral Lockwood wanted him detained, under strict guard. He’s not gettin’ away this time.”

“Where is _he_? Was he _hurt_? Did you get a look at him?” Roxas tried hard to keep the concern out of his voice. Cool detachment is what he needed to maintain.

“T’ admiral had ‘im hauled up to t’ gilded tower straight from t’ dock.”

“Is it all right if I go have a look to see if he is injured and needs some—”

“Admiral Lockwood ordered no one t’ go up there.” Feeny’s voice turned gruff. “The prisoner’s not t’ get ‘ny food ‘n’ water. No med’cin—”

“That is ridiculous!” Roxas snapped while keeping his voice as low as he could. 

“He should’a died years ago. Yer father’ll see ‘im hanged in two days time.”

“What?” Those words winded Roxas a little and he could feel the blood draining from his face. He stared wide-eyed. 

Feeny chewed on the bread and cheese Roxas had given him and swallowed before he said, “‘E’s fed up o’ ‘im escaping, makin’ ‘im look like a fool every time ‘e gets caught again.”

Roxas scowled. “I am going up there to look him over. I do not care about my father and his wishes.”

Feeny sighed and shrugged. “Wha’ever yer want, young master. But yer’ll be needin’ t’ buy me off with more than jus’ a half loaf o’ bread 'n’ a bit’ta cheese.”

The scowl on Roxas’ face darkened. He opened his satchel, pulled out the apple and slammed it on the desk and then snapped his satchel shut, hoisting it on his shoulder and stormed off to make his way to the aforementioned tower on the other side of the castle.

He passed people and doors. There were more chilly drafts as he got to the less inhabited parts of the castle. _How dare_ his father lock up a human being in the gilded tower. There was nothing up there but cold, and stone, and rats, and death. He was livid as he ascended the stairs, stomping loudly, huffing, and his clenched fists shaking. And to expedite the hearing? _If_ there even _was_ a hearing? Roxas let out an angry grunt. 

He reached the top landing of the spiraling staircase eventually. Two guards sat at a small table tucked away in a nook near the cell door. They were playing cards in the flickering light of the two torches that burned, anchored to the walls. They scrambled to their feet when they saw Roxas stomping toward them.

“A-ah, young master R-Roxas. You’re not supposed to be up here,” the stouter of the two men said. His round, bearded face flushed.

“No one is supposed to be up here,” the weedy looking counterpart of the guard duo informed and corrected.

“You two should be standing guard, not absently partaking in a game of cards. Do you not know what a flight risk this prisoner is? If you do _not_ want me to report you to the admiral you will let me through to check on his welfare.” He stood before the two men with authority and a determined glare in his eyes. It seemed to wilt the two guards and they unlocked the door and stepped aside.

“Do you need us to accompany you inside?”

“No. Lock the door behind me and do _not_ open it until you hear me knock four times. No matter what you hear. Do _not_ come inside.”

“But—”

“I said _do not_ interfere. I can handle myself.”

“Yes, sir,” both men saluted.

Roxas gave them both another glare, pushed past them and put his full weight against the solid iron and bolted door. It screeched and groaned against the stone floor. Roxas needed both hands to push it open, and only then a sliver. It was enough for him to fit through and then he strained as he pushed it shut again. He heard the satisfying click of the lock and slowly turned around to face the small, circular room. 

It was overwhelmingly shrouded in murky darkness. The window slits were set so high off the ground that the now-brighter morning light barely reached the stone floor. The room was frigid and drafty. There was no comfort to be had in this prison cell. Nothing but scratchy straw lined the floor, more densely packed in around one side of the room than the other. Roxas spotted a chained and shackled dark lump sitting on the bed of straw, huddling in on itself, and he took confident steps toward the other man.

“So nice ‘o you to come and visit me,” the familiar drawl and gravelly-yet-simultaneously-smooth voice husked and the man raised his head. A cocky smirk lit his face.

Warmth pooled in Roxas’ stomach at the sight and sound of the other man. The flash of piercing green eyes magnetically dragged Roxas’ feet forward and only a few steps later he was before the other man, dropping his satchel to the ground and kneeling before him on the straw-littered floor.

“Why are you such an idiot? Why do you keep getting caught, you numbskull! Are you hurt?” Roxas finished far gentler than he had started off and ran his eyes over dark green mottled breeches, up to the studded cow-hide jerkin, which he could spy through the heavy maroon frock-coat that was the signature piece of clothing Roxas had always known the redhead to wear.

“Y’know _exactly_ why I’ve gotten caught.” The man reached for Roxas’ hand, the chain and heavy iron shackles his wrists were bound by, clinking.

Roxas looked down and frowned. “What did they do to you?” He took up the calloused, rough hands of the swashbuckler. They grazed and scraped against Roxas’ much softer palms. Roxas shuddered with delight as faint memories ghosted in his mind and over his body at that touch running over his bare flesh.

“They didn't do nothin’, other than chain me up.” A smile flashed and the bound man's fingers slid up Roxas’ hand, fiercely gripping his wrist. Roxas jerked forward, falling into the man’s lap, face first. Hands pulled at Roxas’ overcoat and Roxas scrambled and sat up, his thighs squeezing the lap below him. 

“Why are you back?” Roxas winced, the palms of his hands rested on the muscular chest before himself. He stared up only a few inches from the other man’s face. Brilliant red hair was tied up into a messy ponytail, a few locks falling around his face. Stubble (no more than a few days growth) covered his jowls. Heat and a briny smell prickled Roxas’ nose and senses. He peered into deep venom green eyes, which slid closed to slits with how broad the man’s smirk was. “Y’know why’m here. I miss you, Rox. I’ll never stop missing you.”

Roxas lurched forward, closing the gap between them, forcing a hard kiss onto chapped and wind-burned lips. The taste and smell of the sea on the other man's skin electrified Roxas’ pulse and fuelled his desire. Roxas pushed his tongue into the other man’s warm, moist mouth, leaving no room for delicate exploration. Gruff hands squeezed any part of Roxas that the man could get a hold of in his bound state. There was such strength in even his limited movements. It was born from years of hard toil and labor out on the wild seas and Roxas marveled at it every time he grew aware of it. He certainly noticed it now as he was pushed down against the needly, dry straw bed. Open mouthed kissed accosted him, the other man tasting and savoring Roxas as much as Roxas savored the taste and feel of the redhead. The hard and chilling chain between them clanked and felt incredibly heavy on Roxas’ chest. 

“You’ll have to help if you want this as badly as I want you,” the man above Roxas rasped with sultry need against Roxas’ ear. Roxas obliged, willingly, and frantically pushing his hands down between them, undoing his and the other man’s breeches. The slim, yet solid build of the redhead was as good as a dead weight on Roxas’ chest while they shared sloppy, frenzied kisses. 

Roxas pushed their clothes down and out of the way as much as possible. Cold metal against Roxas’ bare skin left him shivering and then he hissed with delight as fingers and—after some frantic stretching, with nothing but spit to aid them—a rigid, hot length pushing into his backside. Their lovemaking was torrid and quick. A few hard and heavy thrusts of slim hips providing just the right amount of pressure and stimulation and Roxas bit down hard on his salty lover's shoulder, muting his ecstasy as he spurted out sex and need all over his abdomen, soiling his waistcoat, while getting simultaneously filled up with the other man’s thick and spent lustful pleasure. 

Their breaths ran ragged against each other's necks. Hands held shoulders firmly and hips slightly nudged seeking that last bit of overstimulated comfort. Their panting eased and they moved apart doing up their trousers. Roxas headed for his medical satchel, where he knelt while wiping his clothes clean with some gauze. “You can not keep coming here every time you need some relief. There are people you can pay for this kind of stuff.” He frowned deeply at his waistcoat and scrubbed off his semen as best he could.

There was a shuffle of straw and tinkle of metal behind Roxas. Slender fingers tickled Roxas’ neck and a heavy weight descended on Roxas’ shoulder as the redhead rested his head there. A breathy rumble of warm air hit Roxas’ ear and the husky rasp of the man’s voice filled his head sending a tingle down his back, “Y’know I don’t want anyone else. Y’know you’re all I want from this life or the next.”

“Axel, please. You can not keep putting yourself in danger like this. Father is… he is _really_ livid at you constantly getting away. His patience is running out. If you escape again and get _caught again_ … I do not even know if next time he will have you be caught and brought back here _alive_.” Roxas dropped the gauze and shuffled around on his knees to face Axel, sliding his hands over broad shoulders and resting them there. He looked at his lover's face and frowned. “If there will even _be_ a next time.”

“There'll be a next time for as long as you’re not with me.”

Roxas huffed. “You have been trying to guilt me into leaving with you for five years now. Nothing will change.”

Green eyes searched Roxas’ face. “You’ve been telling me that for five years but it’s not true. Things _have_ changed. Our feelings have changed. Mine are only getting stronger for you. Each passing month I can’t have you with me makes me crazier about you. I know you feel the same way.”

“Axel,” Roxas muttered and lowered his gaze because the intense passion in the other man’s face was too much. “When will you grow up and be serious?” 

“I’m dead serious.” Axel’s fingers grabbed at Roxas’ waistcoat, pulling them a fraction closer together.

Roxas glared up at him. “You will _be dead_ if you do not stop this. I do not want you dead.”

“I’d rather be dead than not be with you.” Axel frowned down at Roxas with a hard expression.

The ache in Roxas’ belly grew more pronounced. He sank down a little, his hands sliding down Axel’s torso. He pulled his hand off Axel when he reached the man’s side, feeling something damp there and looked at the red stain which painted the palm of his hand. “You are hurt.” He glared up at the other man.

“It’s only a graze.”

“You are _hurt_. I _asked you_ if you were _hurt_ and you did not come straight out with it,” he accused with snappish indignation. 

“I did cum straight.” Axel simpered and winked.

Roxas rolled his eyes and pushed Axel down onto the pile of straw. He pushed the coat and chain aside, unbuttoned the jerkin and pulled the long white shirt up and off the bleeding gash. With a resigned sigh, he got to work, cleaning, cauterizing and suturing the wound, while Axel told Roxas about some very tall adventures he had recently been having, in between his sharp hisses and groans while Roxas tended to his wound. Roxas loved the stories. He had grown up with his nanny telling him all the pirate tails, but she had never sounded as amazing and seductive as Axel did, with his twang and drawl, and animated style of his talking. Not even the shackles hampered his attempts at flailing his arms around.

These enjoyable qualities, which had been—and continued to stay—so alluring for Roxas didn’t manage to lift the damp that settled on his spirit. It had been like this for the last five years. Axel being caught and brought here. Roxas tending to his wounds and slowly, over time, getting familiar and closer to Axel. It hurt to see the man arrive at their castle, and it hurt even more when he left. But at least Axel always managed to leave _alive_ , instead of being marched to the gallows.

Roxas roamed his eyes over his lover's body as he patched up and dried the now-sutured and clean wound. There were an array of new scars on Axel’s body that hadn’t been there since the last time they had seen each other over 7 months ago. There were about five new injuries all in various stages of healing. One looked like a bullet wound, and there were other deep gashes, lacerations, and severe bruising.

“Don’t look at me like that with your big, sad, sea-pup eyes,” Axel begged, reaching up and cupping Roxas’ face as best he could with his bound hands after Roxas was done and Axel was all bandaged up.

Roxas held Axel’s hands and kissed at knuckles. “How can you keep doing this to yourself? How can you live such a life?”

“I’m made for a life of adventure, Roxas. I know you’re too, otherwise, you’d never have disobeyed your old man and come to help me when I was bleeding out and dying in that stinking cell all those years ago.” Axel propped himself up a little with a hissing groan.

Roxas grimaced with the memory of all the blood and the foul, acrid stench of death that had greeted him on entering that dank cell where Axel had been moaning for days on end. He found the scar his treatment had left on Axel, just below where his heart sat. The previously red and raised skin was now white and a lot smoother than it had been all those years ago. But that didn’t make the memory any less visceral.

“You should have died,” Roxas whispered, fingering the edge of the fist-sized scar tissue.

“But I didn’t, because I had the best care—because _you_ believed in me and wanted to make me better. You know I’m not a dirty, flea-bitten bilge-rat. You see the good and have faith in me.”

“Our justice system is not fair,” Roxas glowered but then softened as he said, “You taught me that. You have opened my eyes to the world and how unjust even the most righteous people are.”

“Like your old man.”

“Like my old man,” he mumbled and puffed out a sullen breath. “Your body is always changing.” Roxas kept looking at the craters that peppered the other man’s torso, tracing over old and new territory alike.

“But my heart has stayed the same, Roxas. My heart belongs to you—even _more_ than it belongs to the sea. Jus’ don’t tell her that, okay?” Axel tittered.

Their fingers interlaced and Roxas leaned toward Axel, kissing him with gentle care. They sucked on each other's lips, for comfort, for love, and to banish the heartache, though it only grew more profound as Roxas pulled away again.

He busied himself from feeling emotions by packing away his things. Green eyes followed his every move. “How will you plan on escaping this time?” Roxas asked, feeling cold with the chill of the room, but mostly from the ache in his chest.

“I’ll find some way,” Axel reassured, standing up with a wince and tucking in and buttoning his clothes up as best he could with the constraints.

“How will you find a way if you cannot even do your clothes up properly?” An exasperated sigh seeped out of Roxas as he watched Axel struggle to thread the buttons through their holes.

“I’m doing it. Just watch me.” Axel fumbled with buttons but he did it with such gusto and looked proud of himself with every successful threading.

The man was endearing, adorable, so sure of himself… but Roxas sighed. “Father is planning to expedite your hearing. He plans to have you tried and hanged on the gallows in _two days time_.” A sea of sick welled up inside of Roxas as he said those words.

“Well, bugger. That don’t give us much time to be together.”

“Axel! Stop thinking with your cockhead!” Roxas snapped, rounding on the man. “How can you be so flippant about this? Does your life not mean anything to you?”

Axel’s features hardened with a scowl, but he said in a measured tone, “My life is everything to me.”

“Then why—” Roxas winced and swallowed down the sob.

Axel stepped closer to Roxas, his chained legs not allowing him to move too far away from the wall though. Roxas closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Axel and feeling the man’s strong fingers stroke him through his clothes. Axel pressed tender kisses into Roxas’ hairline. “Y’know why. Y’know you are my beacon. You guide me home, Roxas. Wherever you are so is my heart. I can’t help that.”

Roxas clung harder to Axel, his heartache only growing sharper and more intense in his chest, and his sobs bubbling up with great ferocity. “I just want you safe,” Roxas blubbered. 

“I will be safe. I’ll get out of this.” Axel’s timber soothed, but his words didn’t make Roxas feel any more confident.

“You cannot. Father has never taken so many precautions before.”

Axel hummed thoughtfully. He pressed more dainty kisses to Roxas’ face, over his cheeks, and down to his lips until they were, at last, looking into each other's eyes again. Slowly, Axel said, “Yeah, true… I wasn’t expecting to end up in this here festering hold… _or_ to be chained up like so… but,” Axel’s fingertips brushed at Roxas gently and he got out with enthusiasm, “that doesn't change anything. I’ll escape and I’ll be waiting for you on the parapet on the north side of the castle before dawn breaks the day after tomorrow.”

Axel’s optimism and self-confidence always amazed Roxas. Even in the direst of circumstances Axel always seemed in control. Roxas huffed. “I will not be there, Axel. I _will not_. And neither will you because you will not get out of it. Not this time. I cannot save you this time.”

“When have I _ever_ needed saving?” Axel chuckled with a ludicrous amount of self-confidence.

Roxas rolled his eyes. “All the time. I have saved you and helped you every single time you have ended up here. Father is suspicious by now. That is why he has put you up here. I am just lucky Biggs and Wedge are too stupid to follow his orders properly.”

“Y’won’t be seeing me dance with Jack Ketch, ever. And I’ve never needed your help to escape, but y’know, I’m still grateful for you, matey.”

Roxas scoffed. “You are so full of yourself.”

“I’m not. There are so many people out to get me, but they never will. I’m still here and Jack Ketch’s still waiting. That’s proof enough.”

“That’s such a lie. You got caught and nearly died the first time you landed in the cells here.”

Axel was quiet for a moment. Roxas derived satisfaction from being right and putting Axel’s cock-sure attitude on ice.

“That was… that was _one_ time. I never let the same mistake happen twice. Like… it physically hurts me to get caught by your old man’s crew. They’re landlubbers through and through. But I let them get me.”

Roxas shook his head a little with disbelief… and adoration. Axel always insisted on the same story—that everything he ever did was all according to some greater plan. “That does not stop you from getting injured though, now does it,” Roxas pointed out and scowled. He felt like he was chastising a naughty puppy that just wouldn't listen.

“If I’ve no injuries we don’t have a reason to be together like this,” Axel smirked and darted in, depositing a quick kiss on Roxas’ lips.

“You are crazy, you know that? For putting so much on the line for me.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I _am_ crazy. Crazy in love with you, my sandy-haired, ocean-blue-eyed sea pup.”

Roxas’ heart beat wildly in his chest and his lungs felt too constricted. Axel’s constant love confessions meant the world to Roxas because he felt the same way, but he needed to keep denying them (to Axel at least) because he just wanted the other man to be safe and to forget about him. It never worked though. “You are so stubborn,” Roxas grumbled but nuzzled into Axel’s neck. His actions always betrayed his words. Time was too fleeting and precious to not spend it being embraced by Axel’s strong limbs, coarse hair, and soft kisses.

“I am. So I’ll ask you like I always do… won’t you come away with me, Roxas?” Axel lifted his shackled hands and cupped Roxas’ face. He smiled and it was gentle and warm, and completely obliterated Roxas’ heart.

“Why do you have to make this so hard? I cannot,” Roxas sighed. “You know I cannot.” They had this conversation a dozen times already. “I have a life here. I am well known. My father is the admiral of the royal fleet for God’s sake. There would be a warrant out for your arrest and my safe return to father. He would never stop until he got me back. And you have never given me a reasonable plan for how we would pull it off.”

“I’d find a way. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“And what have you come up with in all these years? Nothing. Nothing that would guarantee both our safety and let us be together for the rest of our days.”

“It’s hard when you won’t give me a shot. I don't know what to plan for until it happens. I can’t give you answers to an unknown. When a situation arises I meet it.”

Roxas stepped away from Axel a little, who tried to follow but was hampered by his restraints.

“That is not good enough, Axel. You need to stay away from me. You need to stop coming here because I cannot be with you unless you _do_ plan ahead and have an answer for every possible thing we might face together.”

Axel frowned and his eyes searched the dark floor of the cell. “There is… something….”

“Something?”

Axel’s head snapped up and he threw an intense stare at Roxas. “I do have a plan, but it would be easier to figure out if you just came with me.”

“That’s not good enough—what have you got in mind?” Roxas was curious. He had never gotten something that even sounded _vaguely_ solid out of the man before now.

Axel took a deep breath. “Right now… the plan is to kill you off.”

Roxas balked at that. “Excuse me?”

“Not actually, not _really_. But we would make it look like you died. That’s… as far as I’ve gotten with that. If your old man thinks you’re dead he’ll leave you alone.”

“Even if you could do that convincingly somehow you would still have father chasing you down for the rest of your life. He would be even _more_ determined.” Roxas crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.

“I don’t care.” Axel thrust his head back a bit and shook it, dislodging some more of his wild red spikes. “He can get in line with the rest of the world chasing me.”

Roxas sighed. Axel was stubborn and set in his ways, and Roxas felt deeply disappointed that there was never a satisfactory or well-thought-out plan out of Axel’s mouth. If he had ever heard one Roxas would have left with the redhead already. “Why can we not go with my plan?” he asked and stepped back toward Axel, palming the man’s rough, fuzzy cheek.

All cock-sureness left Axel and he let out a deep sigh. “Y’know there are no other options. We’ve talked and talked _and talked_. I can’t live a clean life. Your old man—the landlubbers—they’d never let me live a life at your side, the way we’d both want to live our lives. You joining my life is the only option—if you are willing to take the plunge with me.” A soft and hopeful smile perked up Axel’s lips. He held up his hands, palms up, and his fingers stretching out a little. Always a little. Always asking for Roxas to put his hand in his and begging for Roxas to put his full trust in Axel and to come away with him. 

And Roxas’ heart always broke as he pushed away. It wasn’t possible. “I cannot, Axel. You know I cannot.” He walked over to his satchel and pulled out the pear, cheese, and half the loaf of bread he had packed for Axel, leaving it on the straw. He stood up, brushed himself off and walked toward the door.

“What will it take for you to come with me?” There was a subtle tension underpinning Axel’s voice. Roxas stopped in mid-stride, looked over and saw the heavy scowl on Axel’s brow. The man almost looked angry. “I put my all on the line for you. I know you want to come with me, but you always turn away.” Axel’s nose wrinkled. “What’ll it take for you to finally live the life you want to live? I know you don’t want to be cooped up here in this cold castle, reading books and following your old man’s footsteps. I know you _crave_ adventure and excitement,” Axel strained against the shackles keeping him tethered to the wall, “otherwise, you would’ve completely turned away from me years ago. I put myself in danger for you, but you won’t do the same for me? Nothing in life is certain, Roxas. That’s why I can’t give you the certainty you crave. Just come away with me. Just trust me. Because… because you’re right. Soon, I won’t be able to do this anymore. Soon your old man’ll just get his pissing lackeys to shoot me on sight. I’m on thin ice. But I’ll keep doing this until you become the death of me.”

A tightness squeezed Roxas’ chest. Axel finally acknowledged the seriousness of the situation, but it somehow made Roxas feel worse. To be loved so much by someone else—to have someone else willingly lay their life down for him… “You are _so_ stupid,” Roxas muttered, turning away and approaching the door to knock at it and go.

A sharp, frustrated groan left Axel but then he softly said, “Come and visit me tomorrow, before I leave?”

Roxas’ fist was clenched and poised to strike at the door, but he halted. The yearning in his heart was so great and a terrifying and deep sadness tickled right behind his eyes and nose. In his head, he knew that this would be the end of the line for Axel. In his heart though… he turned around, strode toward the other man and flung his arms around Axel, inhaling his briny scent and clenching his eyes shut against the thought that this was the last time he would ever see the man again. Sick bile rose in the back of his throat and he squeezed Axel tighter. “Of course I will. I love you, so, _so_ much. But I am _scared_ , Axel. I am so worried about you. I love you. This hurts too much. The thought of you hanging… it kills me.” 

Axel inhaled deeply and nuzzled into Roxas’ hair. “I’m sorry. I know you love me. I hate making you worry about me which is why I don’t understand—” Axel bit his tongue and huffed out sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making this hard on both of us. If I could’ve left you and never come back I would’ve. But I can’t. I’ll just have to be more careful in the future. I’ll plan ahead and give you what you want to hear the next time I came back for you.”

Roxas pulled away a little, his eyes filled to the brim with tears over the terrible pain he felt. “There cannot be a next time,” he squeaked. “You _cannot_ come back.”

Axel smiled down at Roxas, leaned down and kissed him with a deep inhale of air. He pulled back, rubbed his cheek against Roxas’ and, with the same tender words he always whispered when they parted, said, “I have to. This is not farewell. This will _never_ be farewell. Not like this. Not under these circumstances.”

Roxas let out a shaky breath and thumped his head lightly against Axel’s chest before looking back up and indulging in a final, quick peck to the man’s lips, which turned into a gentle, though longing sucking of tongues and brushing of fingers against cheeks. Roxas was the one to break it. He always was. He turned, walked to the door, knocked four times and looked at Axel, waiting for the door to unlock.

Axel smiled at him from across the small room. “I’ll see you in this, or the next life,” he said as the door unlocked and was pushed open. 

A sob worked its way out of Roxas’ chest. He took a deep breath, mouthed, ‘I love you,’ and turned away, steeling himself, and with the heaviest of hearts descended the tower and headed to his family's living quarters.

* * *

 

The day was dull and gray. The thick cloud cover blanketed and hung low in the sky, kissing the hollows of the earth. The wind was a constant presence for Roxas. It rattled his windows whilst he engaged in his late morning and early afternoon studies. His mind was foggy and unfocused. It was elsewhere; on his heart's flame, who was locked up in the gilded tower. He could see it from the windows wherever he went. His mind restlessly wandered to thoughts of what plans of escape Axel schemed and designed for himself, and how being locked up in this different location would affect those plans.

It was driving him mad with worry. His tutors all noticed and he got a significant beating from his hand-to-hand combat trainer, who ordered Roxas to call it a day and get his head out of the clouds. But his head wasn’t in the clouds. His sights were firmly rooted on the gilded tower, which haunted him at every location, and particularly in the combat practice courtyard.

He didn’t know how he managed to occupy himself but eventually, time passed sufficiently enough for twilight to settle in, and the household had been called together for their evening meal. Roxas’ mother, father, three younger siblings, and their nanny were all there, seated at the large dining table in a long hall. The table was set with an assortment of food: bread and butter, cooked pheasants, and hot soups to drive the chill of the dreary day out of their bones.

This was the first chance Roxas had gotten all day to see and speak with his father, Admiral Luxord Lockwood. They ran through the formalities. Roxas listened to his father detailing the month-long voyage and at last the subject turned to Axel, giving Roxas the perfect leeway into interrogating his father regarding what Feeny had told him that morning.

“I think we will finally see that black stain wiped off the face of the Earth. I have been chasing down the paperwork all day, making sure everything is as it should be. He will hang when the sun rises tomorrow morning,” Luxord informed.

Ice cold dread ran down Roxas’ body, freezing him and causing his cutlery to clutter to the plate. “He will hang _tomorrow_ morning?” White noise filled his ears for a deafening second and his vision started to speckle black. He blinked, shook his head a little, swallowed the uncomfortable lump in the back of his throat and found his father through his blurry and swimming vision. “But… what about a fair trial?” Roxas could barely keep his voice to an even keel.

“His misdemeanors, felonies, and convictions have all been heard by a jury.”

“But he never attended court! He could never defend himself.” Roxas gripped his knife and tried hard to stop his hands from shaking.

“If he stopped escaping he would have gotten his day in court. People like that cannot be trusted and cannot be expected to ever change.”

“But what about _due process?”_ Roxas half-screamed, outrage boiling within his chest cavity.

Luxord pinned him with his cold blue stare. The kind warmth and youthful spirit Roxas was accustomed to seeing in his father extinguished and before him—at the head of the table—sat the stern, no-nonsense admiral. “Some people do not _deserve_ due process when they keep reoffending and evading justice, Roxas.”

Roxas slammed his hands on the table and rose from his chair violently, knocking his seat over backward. “Who are _you_ to decide that? You are not _God!”_

Admiral Lockwood slammed his fist on the table, causing cutlery and crockery to clutter and clink together. “Sit down!” he boomed.

Roxas jumped, his heart feeling frozen for a moment. He turned around to locate his chair and took it, seating himself at the table. His appetite was lost and he glared at his plate while his mind raced with thoughts of Axel and the idea that he needed to warn the man somehow to hurry up his escape from the castle.

Muffled voices bounced around the table. Roxas could barely make out his siblings giggling over Roxas having gotten into trouble, or his mother’s kinder words, and certainly not the full extent of the admiral's still chilling tone.

_“As.”_

_“O-as.”_

__

__

_“Roxas!”_

Roxas startled out of his deep thoughts to look at the head of the table where his father sat.

“Your concern with that… _thug_ —is unsettling.” 

Admiral Lockwood's murky-blue eyes digging into Roxas's soul stoked the embers of anxiety in his gut until a fire ignited. He stammered a little as he said, “Y-you have raised me to be a certain way—to see you throw out everything I _thought_ you held dear—justice for all, and the righteousness of the law—it is…” Roxas huffed. 

Admiral Lockwood continued to stare at his son for a while until he said, “What is wrong with you today?”

“I’m not feeling well. May I be excused?” Roxas asked in a terse manner.

With a deep frown, the command came, “I want a tête-à-tête with you after dinner. Seven sharp, in my study.”

“Yes, father.” Roxas got up and went to his room, where he stared out the window across the courtyard, and at the gilded tower. Never had he felt so terrible before. Not in the last five years had he ever truly worried about Axel’s safety. But things were different now. Axel was right. His heart had changed too much. It loved too much. 

He snuck down to the kitchen, grabbing some leftover loaves of bread, a bottle of wine, dropped by the infirmary, and then headed back to his room. Biggs and Wedge were probably gone now with a change of guard so getting Axel free would take more finesse and hardcore bribery depending on who the replacements were. Roxas was confident that he could do it though. He had rescued Axel plenty of times in the past and had never been found out. Roxas just needed to find a way to convince Axel to never come back… and perhaps also convince himself to actually make his reasons and pleas sound believable to the other man for once in their lives.

Luckily, or unluckily, for Roxas, a solution to his wavering loyalty between Axel and his own family dropped into his lap when he went to see his father in his study at 7 o’clock. It was a massive room, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled to the brim with historical tombs, war strategy texts, maps from all quadrants of the world, medical texts, legal books, and documents, as well as many other things.

Roxas’ father sat at his wide desk, stewing over the litter of maps, and an assortment of paperwork. An oil lamp sat on the desk and was the only source of light in the room.

“Roxas, take a seat,” Luxord commanded without a glance up at him as Roxas closed the door behind himself.

He dragged his heels along the rug which led toward the desk and his father. The relatively short walk grew a heaviness and deep sense of foreboding with every step he took. It was almost like he was taking himself to his own execution. 

Roxas eventually arrived, taking a seat opposite if his father. The high backed, overstuffed leather chair made Roxas feel like he was 5 years old—back when the world was very big and he was very small. Everything about his father’s presence was designed to be imposing when he was in business mode. And he was _very much_ in business mode right now.

The conversation was straight and to the point – Roxas was to get married to the daughter of a lord. He would take over living far away in that lord's manor, managing affairs and learning more about economics than law or medicine as he had been doing. Normally, Roxas would have been up in arms about his father’s plans for his future half a dozen times, but as it was Roxas stayed very quiet during his father’s lecture and decree. He was numb with shock. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that this was always going to happen—but the fact that it was _here_ , right _now_? He struggled to comprehend what was happening. He just let his father's hour-long sermons, regarding the sanctity of marriage and the importance of strengthening political and economic bonds between families of importance, wash over him.

With a sunken head and hunched shoulders, Roxas left his father’s study. The mental image of the lord's landlocked manor that his father had pointed out on one of his maps, sent a flush of hopeless resignation through his body. He shuffled, despondent through the castle toward his bedchamber. He slunk inside, pressing the door shut behind himself with the full weight of his body pushed up against it. 

Roxas stared at his booted feet for a while, waiting for the white noise to abate and for his vision to clear. He then dragged himself over to his desk by the large window that faced into the heart of the castle and his eyes snagged on the menacing dark shape of the gilded tower, jutting out and upward into the night sky.

His heart ached. Tears stung his eyes and a flash of outrage bloomed and burst from his chest in a sharp scream of fury and upset. His arms flailed as he shoved everything on his desk onto the floor, which included the lit oil lamp. The blaze that went up startled Roxas out of the blinding rage and he sprinted to his bed, grabbing the heavy fleece blanket and threw it atop of the growing inferno, quenching the flames and stopping it from engulfing his whole room.

Roxas sat on the floor next to his blanket for a while. Darkness surrounded him and filled his innermost parts. He imagined the life his father had planned out for him—the life he would be living in a few short months. He would be married. He would father children for the good of his and her families bloodlines. He would be living in a manor. A landlocked manor surrounded by fields and forests. He would be far from the sea. He would never see the sea again, would never hear the screeching of seagulls, the crash of the waves, or have the smell of salt and brine tickle his nose. The wild wind would never tousle his hair again, caress his skin, kiss his lips. Roxas doubled over, hugging his legs and rocking at a hectic pace. He… would never see… _Axel_ again.

He bit his lip to keep the aching sob inside. Axel… he would never ever hear Axel’s cocky laugh, or see that smile, or have calloused hands massage his back, or hear sultry sea shanties being sung in his ear…. Roxas’ hands began to tremble and he sniffled to keep the tears away. 

Maybe this was the thing that Roxas needed the most; the marriage. Maybe it was the wedge that would keep Axel safe and stop him from seeking Roxas out. But that thought made Roxas’ heart ache as it had never ached before. He felt hollow and empty inside. The imagined future without Axel in it felt like a death sentence rather than him living the rest of his life.

Roxas couldn’t think straight—he _didn’t want to_ think straight. As if possessed he rose from the cold floor and rushed around his room in the dark, grabbing the food and wine he had taken from the kitchen and put it into the medical satchel he was still in possession of. They were provisions for Axel. Nothing more. He got dressed—a fraction warmer because the tower was cold, and he packed a few items of clothing… in case Axel needed a change of shirt since he had bled through his. Roxas didn’t think. He just acted. He needed to see Axel again. Needed to say goodbye. Needed to get him out before dawn came.

He quietly snuck out of his bedchamber. It was somewhere around 10 o’clock at night, which meant the castle was mostly still—if one ignored the drunken raucous noises coming from the garrison quarters in the lower levels of the castle. Roxas wasn’t heading down. He was making his way up to the gilded tower. He hoped Axel was warm enough, that the provisions he had left with the other man had been satiating, and he hoped that Axel was comfortable, and his wound not too painful. Roxas also hoped Axel _had_ an escape route planned because other than getting the man out of the locked room Roxas didn’t know how else to get Axel out of the castle and to safety.

As he ascended the roughly hewn stone steps he could hear the guards up above laughing. If Roxas was in luck he might already find the guards intoxicated, so it might not take too much longer to get them dozing off. 

The light shed by the torches up on the landing came into view and Roxas took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“Greetings, men,” he said in salutation as he reached the top.

The two guards, who Roxas didn’t really recognize, stood up abruptly from the small table and saluted him. “Young master,” they both slurred.

Roxas waved at them to stand down. They relaxed their stance.

“What are you doing up here? No one is supposed to be up here,” one of them said.

Roxas’ heart sank. “I need to check on the prisoner. He had a severe injury and I’m here to change the gauze.”

The slightly wider of the two men laughed. “Pardon us, young master, but that bilge rat’s as good as dead. He’ll be dancing with Jack Ketch in the morning so there’s no point in you changing anything.”

The other man nodded through a smirk. “An’ we can’t let you in any way. Strictly off limits.”

Roxas clicked his tongue with irritation but then plastered a big grin on his face. “All right. Can I interest you two in some wine instead? I was going to use it to sterilize the wound but since that will not be happening it would be a shame to let it go to waste.” He pulled out the bottle and held it out to the greedy men. Their smarmy smirks grew broader.

Roxas left the bottle with them and hid himself a little way down the stairs, around the curve of the spiraling stairs and waited. He listened to the men drinking, laughing, and getting more slurred in their speech while they sang ridiculous songs. Roxas’ backside got colder and numbed the longer he waited on the stairs. He shifted, walked up and down as quietly as he could and felt his anxiety thicken like churned milk with the passing minutes. He wondered if he had gotten the dosage of the tranquilizers he had laced the wine with, correct. Maybe he hadn’t put in enough. He had been too worried about killing anyone so had gone a bit light on the dosage. He contemplated running down to the infirmary and stealing some anesthetic. He would have to stab the guards with needles, but it’s not like it wasn’t doable.

Luckily, Roxas didn’t have to think through the logic of that plan for much longer because it got very quiet upstairs. He carefully made his way to the landing. The snores became more apparent the closer he got. Both men were passed out and leaning against the table at various uncomfortable angles. Now Roxas had the unpleasant and dangerous task of locating the key.

He patted down both men very gently, detesting the stench of alcohol and sweat on them. He found the keys, attached to a heavy iron hoop, and then started trying each one in the lock until the latch clicked open. The next obstacle was getting inside the cell. Roxas pressed against the door, slowly opening it and flinching with each agonizing wake-the-dead deep screech from metal rubbing against stone. He kept an eye on the passed out guards whilst his heart marathoned.

“Axel,” he whispered once he had gotten the door ajar.

The clank of chains sounded. Axel hoarsely calling out, “Roxas?” was barely audible.

Roxas pushed the door a _little_ more and squeezed through into the small room beyond. It was even more frigid than before. His breath misted before his face, illuminated by the sliver of warm torchlight cutting in from the space behind Roxas. But he didn’t pay it any heed. He rushed toward Axel, who was kneeling on the floor and looked to be shivering.

“H-hey, b-bback so s-ssoon already?” Axel tried at a small laugh through chattering teeth.

Roxas’ heart bled for the other man. He knelt down and clutched Axel's icy hands. It made him hiss from the shock of the chill. He raised Axel's bound hands to his face, breathing on them and kissing knuckles. “You are stone cold.”

Axel did little else but nod and try at a smile.

Roxas frowned with sadness but then snapped out of his pity and ache. “I am getting you out of here,” he said with determination and purpose. “Father is executing you tomorrow morning. We do not have any time to lose.” Roxas lowered Axel's hands and fiddled with the keys, using the light from behind to try and see what he was doing. He systematically cycled through the keys, trying to find which ones would release Axel’s chains and shackles.

“Y-yyour o-oold m-ma-n iis a m-mman of a-aaction.” Axel shook uncontrollably and watched Roxas try key after key in rapid succession.

“Will you be able to get away tonight?” Roxas glanced up at him, finally finding the key that undid the wrist shackles. 

Axel sighed with relief as Roxas unclipped the metal restraints. He rubbed at and rolled his wrists. “Y-yeah. My me-n will b-bbe wa-wa-waiting for mme.” Axel flung his arms around Roxas, making him gasp with surprise.

“Quit wasting time,” Roxas scolded against Axel’s shoulder whilst simultaneously hugging him tightly against himself, hoping to make the other man warm.

Axel breathed deeply against Roxas’ hair, squeezed tighter and said, with less chattering and shivering this time, “Holding y-you is never a waste of ti-time. God, R-oxas, I-II’ve missed you. I’ve mi-ssed being able t-to touch you like I wa-wa-want to touch you.” Axel ran his hands all over Roxas’ clothes and when a freezing digit slipped _under,_ Roxas yelped from searing pain, but he didn't pull away. 

His gut clenched and he shivered and hissed as icy palms and fingers caressed his abdomen and slipped beneath his breeches. Warm kisses began peppering Roxas’ neck making him melt into the touch. “We do not have time for this. Let me get your legs free. We have to go,” Roxas urged, pulling back a bit. 

Axel eased off Roxas a little as well. “W-we? Y-yyou’ll come with me?” Axel looked very eager, though somewhat disbelieving as well.

Roxas stared into green eyes. Thoughts of marriage popped into his head. “I…” Roxas bit his lip and shoved Axel away, forcing the other man onto his backside and giving Roxas access to the shackles on his ankles. He started his systematic search for the right key once more. Axel’s hands were on his arms, rubbing, holding, squeezing and feeling much warmer.

Roxas muttered his thoughts aloud, “Father is going to marry me off.”

“What?” Axel snapped.

Roxas resisted looking up at Axel. All his attention was focused on getting the right key into the lock. Freeing Axel was all that mattered. “It is all arranged. Three months from now. I will be living at Wilton Downs. It is half a day’s journey by horse and cart. You will not see me again.”

Axel’s hands stopped moving and squeezed Roxas a little tighter. “This is a s-ssick joke.”

“It is not a joke. I will be gone and there will be no reason for you to come and get yourself killed.” Roxas couldn't see the lock anymore through his blurry vision. He blindly fumbled with the keys.

“Roxas, look at m-me.” Axel grabbed Roxas’ hand which was holding the keyring and cupped his chin forcefully with the other hand. “You can't really w-want that. You can't really mean that.”

“You are the most important thing in my life. Of course I mean it. I want you safe,” Roxas snapped with anger and hurt. The tears fell and his vision cleared a little, allowing him to see Axel's wet eyes shimmering back at him in the gloom.

“The marriage, I mean,” Axel said, sounding small and far more broken than Roxas had ever been privy to observe.

Roxas sniffled and rubbed his eyes against the scratchy woolen sleeve of his coat. “I mean it. I will be happy knowing you are not hanging.”

“You really never want to see me again?”

Roxas clenched his jaw. “We have no time for this. We need to go. There will be another change of guard soon.” Roxas looked down between Axel's legs, jammed the key in the lock and turned it to the satisfying sound of a click. 

Axel leaned in toward Roxas. “No. I’m not l-letting you do this. You’re being a barnacle. Th-this is not your ship to captain. I'm not letting you g-ggive up your life—your _happiness_ —to keep me safe. Even bilge-rats have more sense than that.” With that Axel clasped one of the wrist shackles closed on Roxas’ wrist and snapped the other one shut on his own.

Roxas stared at the heavy, cold metal bracelet and the small chain that separated his hand from Axel’s. Axel snatched the keys out of Roxas’ hand and stood up, pulling Roxas along with him.

Roxas tried to keep his voice down but he also wanted to shout. A harsh rasp came out as he said, “What the hell do you think you are doing?” He pulled his hand back, yanking Axel’s limb back along with his own.

“I'm taking you with me, Roxas Lockwood. I'm giving your martyr heart a break and making the choice for you.”

“You cannot just kidnap me!” Roxas raged in a hushed whisper.

“I can and I _will_. You want to come with me but you're too hung up about doing the right th-thing by me and y-your family that you're sacrificing yourself. But not on my watch, matey.” Axel dragged Roxas toward the door, stooping down to grab the satchel as he went.

“I do _not_ want to come with you!” Roxas protested fiercely.

“Sure. That's why you've got a change of clothes on. That's why there is food and a spare change of clothes in your bag.”

“Those are for _you_!” Roxas vehemently defended.

Axel shot Roxas a glare. “Stop lying and be honest with yourself—with your heart. I’m taking you with me and you have until the north parapet to decide. I'll release you when we get there.” Axel pulled his arm toward the door and Roxas along with him.

Roxas grumbled. His heart raced and yearned and was so unsure of itself. He quietly followed Axel. They squeezed through the narrow gap in the doorway, eyeing the still-sleeping guards as they passed by. Axel stopped though and went to grab for the bottle of wine with the hand that was bound to Roxas.

“Do not drink that,” Roxas grabbed Axel’s wrist and green eyes looked at him questioningly. “I… drugged them,” Roxas responded, looking away 

Axel hummed in a pleasing way. “This is why I love you. You are simply amazing, my sweet sea pup.” Axel, with his free hand, grabbed Roxas’ head and pushed them into a quick, albeit deep kiss.

When they broke from the kiss Roxas licked his lips, savoring the taste of Axel and they quickly descended the stairs. 

When they reached the hallway below Roxas went left and Axel pulled right.

“Where are you going?” Roxas asked, still in a hushed and frantic tone. “The north parapet is this way,” he nodded to the hall behind himself.

“I know that, but if we go the direct route there’s more chance that we’ll be caught. We need to go up and around.”

Roxas let himself be pulled the other way. He had never seen Axel escape. He merely had provided opportunities for the man to get away in the past. A timely distraction here, an unlocked door there. This was nerve-wracking.

They rushed through the quiet castle. Roxas’ heart raced with exhilaration and dread. They tiptoed around corners, ducked low and ran for it in open spaces, and all the while Axel held Roxas’ hand, even though the shackles connected them. This crazy moment, with danger all around, felt so perfect. Roxas felt like he was where he was meant to be. It wasn’t in this castle he had called home for the last 20 years of his life. It wasn’t the idea of doing anything with his medical training or combat skills – it was just _this…_ following Axel wherever he went.

They reached the southernmost part of the castle, ascended the steep stairs and pushed the door open to step out into the cold night air high above the ground. The sea’s strong scent wafted on the gale and the wind whipped their hair about wildly. A shrill, frantic whistling sounded from below.

Roxas’ stomach dropped, and he also dropped to the ground, pulling Axel down with him. “They know you are missing,” Roxas gasped and stared with wild eyes at Axel. “The guard must have changed.”

The other man frowned and clicked his tongue. He seemed to be thinking deeply. Roxas could see the gears turning. He waited for some kind of a revelation, but Axel remained quiet, chewing on his lip a little. Roxas took a peek over the low wall down into the courtyard. The whistling grew louder. Footsteps gathered below and shouting drifted along the breeze. A dozen torches flickered. Rows of the garrisoned troops were lining up and Roxas could see a figure that looked like his father rush out of the east block of the castle to address the troops.

“Blast. I’m going to be in so much trouble if I get found out that I helped you.” Roxas turned his back to the wall and slid down banging his head against it gently. How was he going to get out of this mess?

Axel took a quick look over the wall before he slid down next to Roxas. He groaned a little. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For this.” He lifted their joined hands. “For dragging you along. For wanting to have you all to myself for years on end.”

Roxas stared at Axel in alarm. “No. No, do not be sorry for any of it. I… I am the one who should be sorry. I… I am a coward. I have wanted you for so long—wanted to live your life with you for so long but… I have never wanted to be the one to make the decision. If I had been braver—”

Dry lips, scratchy stubble, and rough fingers pushed against Roxas. He melted into the touch losing his worries and mind for a fraction of a second. He inhaled Axel’s scent and savored his taste and then pulled out of the deep kiss. His voice rasped a little as he regained his composure, “We need to go. My father’s men will be doing a systematic sweep through the entire castle. They will be coming up here shortly to get a better vantage point.” The shouting down below got louder and clearer. “I hope you have a plan.”

Axel’s attention returned to Roxas. “I do. Do you trust me to keep you safe?”

Roxas looked at Axel’s face, grave, beautiful, deep, serene, and chaotic all at once. “I do.”

Axel’s lips widened into a giant smile. “Good. We need to make this look like I’m taking you against your will.”

“I think you have already got that part covered.” Roxas lifted their hands and smiled at Axel.

Axel kissed Roxas’ held up hand. “We need to make it a _little_ bit more convincing. You’re small but strong, and very brave.” Axel unlocked himself from Roxas, shackled both of Roxas’ hands together and then dug through the satchel, pulling out a shirt and used it to gag Roxas. “You look really good like this. Maybe I’ll tie you up when all this is over.” Axel winked. Roxas rolled his eyes but smiled and felt his cheeks heat up, even in the cold night air and the icy wind battering against them.

A thunderous stomp of feet rose from the ground. The delight in Axel’s eyes fizzled out. He grabbed Roxas, throwing him over his shoulder, grabbed the satchel and ran for it. One arm was holding Roxas, who bounced around wildly. Roxas saw his father’s men storm the top of the wall—they were instantly spotted and a rousing screech of whistles blared to sound the alarm.

Axel ran like the wind. Roxas kept getting jostled around; he saw Axel's maroon coat fluttering, and his heavy brown boots so far below, kicking up their heels. There came sudden changes in direction. They were airborne a couple of times as Axel leaped over things. Stairs were raced up and down. Roxas marveled at Axel's surefootedness and how familiar he seemed with his passage between narrow gaps and foreign looking sections of the castles. 

Axel panted furiously. He kept asking Roxas if he was all right, would warn him to hold tight, and kept blowing out whistles from time to time, as if he was leading his pursuers somewhere. The hail of footsteps grew louder. Tighter corners were turned and then suddenly Axel came to an abrupt halt.

“Let my son go!” came a deep bellow from behind Roxas. He instantly recognized his father's tone.

“He’s my only safe passage off this rock. I'm not lettin’ ‘im go. Nothin’ you say guarantees my safety other than this mangey fleabag’s life.” Axel sounded so brave and heroic. If Roxas weren't scared out of his mind he was sure he would have fallen to his knees to show Axel his appreciation for the courageous stance he was taking.

“Release him. I will bargain with you. I give you my word!”

Roxas felt himself slip. Axel dropped him to the ground and spun him around to face his father. Roxas felt Axel shift behind him, the crook of his arm snapped around the underside of Roxas’ head, lifting and exposing his neck to the biting night air. Something cold, hard, and sharp pressed against his neck. Roxas’ eyes went wide with fear. As his stare was forced up he could see the tip of Axel’s nose, his windblown red hair, but nothing else other than the brooding and clouded sky above. He did, however, hear a great deal more. The cock of muskets, the labored gasps for air from Axel and others around them, the shuffling of feet as the stand-off caused tension to build in all those witness to it.

“Put the knife down,” Luxord commanded, but in a more careful and almost pleading way.

“Not until you send half your men away— _Away_!” Axel barked, squeezing Roxas and pressing the razor-sharp edge of the blade firmer against Roxas’ throat. Roxas winced as acute pain shot through him and sent a gross shiver through his body.

Luxord shouted orders. Axel's whispered voice thrummed in Roxas’ ear quietly, _“Trust me. I will keep us safe.”_

Footsteps faded and Luxord’s voice sounded a little closer. “Release him. He has done nothing to deserve this.”

Axel shifted, dragging Roxas as he took a small step backward, and then another, and another. He gave a low whistle and then said, “You’re right. He hasn't done anything to deserve this. _You_ on the other hand—you have done _plenty_ to deserve eternal suffering. Your spawn will rot at the bottom of Davy Jones’ locker, keepin’ all the good, hard-working mates you’ve sent there company!”

With a strenuous shout from Axel, Roxas felt himself be thrown backward. His eyes went wide and all he saw was dark and a flash of red and his own hair whipping around his face. A sickening sensation of falling engulfed Roxas. The wind screaming past his ears drowned out his own scream of surprised terror. He kept falling, his bound hands outstretched before himself, desperate to catch onto something but unable to grasp on to anything. His eyes stung, his head felt dizzy. He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart jolted and the thought of, _‘No, no, no,’_ screeched through him as he hit something—it was solid, but not like the ground, or sharp like rocks… or freezing like water. Grunts and groans and swears sounded around him and hands were on him and he was dragged.

Unfamiliar voices echoed in his ear as he was slammed against the hard surface of the castle's walls.

_“Be quiet.”_  
_“Don't make a sound.”_

A hand clasped over Roxas’ mouth. He could hardly breathe with the shock of what had happened. His legs shook. He could barely stand up straight but hands were around him holding him upright.

A mighty roar soared into the night sky somewhere above. Roxas thought it sounded a little like his father but wasn't left to dwell on that because the unfamiliar men pulled him along the edge of the castle, where it hugged the cliffside.

They rushed over rocks and uneven surfaces. Roxas, still bound but no longer gagged, started getting his senses back. “What happened? Where is Axel?” He asked of the black-robed men who spurred him along and caught him whenever he stumbled because of the dark and because of feeling unhinged from the death plummet he had taken.

“We’re trying to get you and the captain out alive. That's what's going on. Now shut yer piehole,” the man right behind Roxas answered in a gruff drawl.

They kept going. Roxas caught the sound of shouting, gunfire, and other commotion up above in the castle drifting down at times. Terror gripped him. His thoughts were flooded with Axel. He cast his eyes up the algae and barnacle infested and wind-beaten castle walls.

Very soon the men and Roxas reached a small boat, tucked away amongst rushes and reeds and covered with a black fabric. The six of them all piled in and cast off, along the shoreline. Roxas rocked with the rhythmic tug of the boat its rowers created. He stared at his home as it got smaller and smaller and drifted into the murky distance. 

He didn't know where they were going. His mind raced around, being able to focus on little else besides fearing for Axel's safety and occasionally giving a passing wonderment at how Axel had so confidently flung Roxas off the parapet to know his men would be below to catch him. It made him shudder to think that maybe Axel hadn’t been confident at all. His stomach knotted and felt heavy with discomfort and anxiety. He hunched over himself and rubbed his shackled hands together.

Someone saw and gave a low whistle. Roxas looked up at a burly man with short dark-auburn hair and a very square jaw. He was looking intensely at Roxas and gave him a questioning nod. The man asked, “Who put those on you?”

“Ah… Axel.”

“Why?”

Roxas frowned. “To pretend like I was his hostage.”

The man let out a thoughtful hum.

“You want me to deal with it, Lex?” A gruff voice asked from behind Roxas. It sounded like the same man who had been behind Roxas, pushing him along the entire time while they had made their way to the boat.

The man who had been addressed as Lex nodded and scooched over. The boat rocked a little as the man behind Roxas got up and came to sit before him. He had black hair and wore an eyepatch and had a deep running scar down his chin. He leaned over, fished something from his pockets and then took Roxas’ hands, picking at the lock.

Lex addressed Roxas again, saying, “So you want to join us?”

Uncertainty scratched at Roxas. He wished Axel were there to explain everything to him. “I want Axel. I want to be with him. Where is he? Will we meet up with him soon? Will he be okay?”

Soft laughter went up all around Roxas. He turned his head left and right a little, feeling embarrassed and alone. He wished he knew what the joke was.

The lock on his wrists clicked and the shackle’s tight embrace eased. The lockpicker’s hands were on Roxas’, unclasping the metal bonds, prying them apart, and dropping them to the bottom of the boat. One brown eye looked up at Roxas and the man said, “You don’t need to worry about the Captain.”

“He’s a rapscallion,” a more lighthearted voice from behind spoke up. “Thrives on causin’ an uproar."

Everyone laughed and seemed so relaxed about it. Roxas felt more anxious. “When can I see him?”

The scarred man sat up straight. “You'll see him in a couple of days. We will meet him at Port Morgene.”

“Where is that?” Roxas rubbed at his wrists. He had never heard of that place.

“Secret,” came the gruff but amused sounding response.

Roxas stayed quiet, feeling uncomfortable and fatigued. The sloshing of the oars as they hit the water and the rhythmic rocking made Roxas drowsy and nod off to sleep.

* * *

 

He woke again to find himself leaning against a blond man, who was by far the most youthful of all the men he had seen so far. He was greeted with a smile and a joyous declaration of, “Oh, good timing. We’re just about to get out and start the hike!”

Roxas sat up and looked around himself. They seemed to be in an overgrown estuary. The boat hit land and they all filed out and began their trek through dense forest until they came upon a bay where a sleek bark[1] lay anchored. Flame motifs adorned the red sails and Roxas stared in awe at the vessel in its proud glory. It was exactly like Axel had always described it to him.

He was taken aboard and left to settle in the captain's quarters where he spent his days recuperating from the shock of everything that went down, and to let his body heal because that fall and landing, even though it has been on people, had left him with bruises and a sore back. 

Axel’s quarters were a very comforting setting wherein to recover. This place was also like Axel had always described: there was a settee, a large table with a hand-painted map detailing places Roxas knew of, wanted to see, and had never heard of before. There was also a large double-glazed and sturdy window running along the hull of the ship and giving a spectacular view of the vast blue ocean beyond. The large four poster bed was Roxas’ favorite though. He lazed amongst luxurious sheets and buried his head in the fluffy pillows. 

For one, they were very comfortable—Roxas didn’t think he had ever slept on anything so soft—and secondly, he basked in the scent of the missing man, as it clung to everything. That action, however, caused his tears to flow. He ached for Axel to be all right and to come back to him. 

### 

 

As days passed Roxas learned the names of the men who had taken him to the ship—Lexaeus, Braig, Demyx, Corbin, and Fenton—as well as the names of the other hands that were about. They were a motley bunch and it somehow felt fitting that they had all banded together under Axel’s banner of dancing flames. 

Every day when they sat together for supper Roxas would listen to everyone's amazing stories and experiences. They told him about all the things he could look forward to once Axel rejoined them and assigned them to various escapades. 

Roxas also spent his time asking questions about Axel, and these questions largely revolved around whether or not they _really_ thought he was all right, and also about whether Axel had _actually_ planned everything on the day he had flung Roxas off the parapet. He couldn’t shake the unnerving fear, thinking that maybe it had all been luck. The answer that he heard most was that of, “Of course, he planned it all. Every godforsaken time he came here he had us camping out in all kinds of piss poor weather, just in case. We all knew the drill.” And most of all everyone upheld the mantra of, “The captain’s always got a plan up his sleeves.”

It had been reassuring to hear and Roxas was feeling a little more optimistic. The fact that everyone was certain that Axel was alive and well and would meet them at the rendezvous spot made his hopes soar a little higher, but there was still a hole in his heart, and he cuddled the heck out of those pillows at night and tried to drown out the niggling worries that darkness and isolation brought with it.

### 

 

On the eighth day after Roxas’ fall from the castle, landfall was made in the early hours of the morning. Roxas drifted in and out of sleep. His head lay buried under blankets and pillows, but he still heard it; a loud barrage of knocks on the ornate emblazoned-with-flame-motifs door to Axel’s quarters. Roxas groaned and stirred, sitting up and rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes as he gave a sleepy, but loud enough, “What is it?” to the door.

The knocking stopped, the handle creaked and the door slowly swung open. Roxas looked over, bleary-eyed. A maroon-clad figure stepped over the door's threshold. A ginormous toothy grin lit up green eyes and the shaggy, fiery red mane shook from side to side. “Roxas! You sleepy sea urchin. You’re going to miss all the fun if you don’t get up and out of bed.” Hands were on hips and the man kicked the door closed behind himself.

“Axel!” Roxas screamed, tearing the blankets off and raced toward the tall man, slamming into him and sending them both careening against the door.

Axel’s laugh filled the room and Roxas’ heart. He gave a rib-crushing squeeze to Axel’s sides, and buried his head in between the folds of Axel’s coat, rubbing his cheek against the jerkin the man still wore beneath. He breathed in so deep, savoring that familiar scent which had been clinging to everything in this room. But here, at its source, it was so much warmed, imbued with an electric and alive essence. Roxas squeezed Axel _even_ tighter and shuddered with overwhelming relief as Axel’s strong arms slid around him and pulled him even closer against the other man.

Axel kept laughing. Roxas joined in, but he sputtered with tears very soon after. Axel lifted him off the ground, and Roxas clung to him like a small child.

“What’s the matter?” Axel husked against Roxas’ ear. He walked over to the bed and dropped Roxas on it. Roxas was reluctant to unclench his hold around the other man but did when Axel, still chuckling, said, “It’s all right. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t disappear if you let go.”

Axel stood up straight, a gorgeous, sparkling smile lighting his face. He was dressed the same as Roxas had last seen him but was now clean-shaven and his hair hung loose, down past his shoulders. Roxas stared up in complete disbelief. He rubbed at his eyes to get the tears out. “You are alive! You are back! Axel!” Roxas flung himself forward, grabbing hold of Axel’s waist and nuzzling into his stomach.

Long fingers tangled into Roxas’ hair and rubbed at his head. “Were you worried about me?” Amusement danced in Axel’s voice.

Roxas pulled away and glared up. “Blow me down! Of course I was! I have been crying myself to sleep for days on end in your stupid bed, missing your stupid face, and your stupid voice, and how _dare_ you fling me to my death!” He thumped his fist against the mattress.

Axel was still smiling while he shrugged out of his coat, unbuttoned his jerkin, and bloody shirt, and let it all drop to the floor. “Well, you’re hardly dead, are you? Which I’m _really_ glad about, by the way.”

“You and me both.” Roxas drank up the sight of Axel’s broad chest, narrow waist and hips. He saw the unbandaged wound that he had fixed up for Axel over a week ago and was happy to see no new additions to the collection of battle scars that Axel’s body was peppered and marred with.

Axel fingered the buttons of his breeches, slowly undoing one after another while Roxas stared with a growing hunger fuelled by an overwhelming sense of relief brought on by seeing Axel before himself.

“I like you in that shirt. Looks familiar,” Axel quirked his eyebrows and wore a smug smile.

Roxas looked down at himself, dressed in one of Axel’s cream-colored plain-cotton shirts. It was long enough to fit Roxas like a short nightgown. He had the sleeves rolled up halfway and only a couple of buttons done up in the middle. “I do not have any of my own clothes. And I have missed your stupid face so it was nice wearing you.”

Axel slid his breeches and smallclothes down, stepping out of them, and his boots, and crawled onto the bed, forcing Roxas to lean back and shuffle further along the mattress so they could both fit. Axel connected them in a kiss and pressed Roxas down against soft sheets, pushing his tongue into him and sliding one of his hands up Roxas’ thighs and onto his side, under the shirt. 

The kiss was broken and Axel murmured, “Looks good on you. But you wanna know what would look even better?”

Roxas loved Axel’s sultry tone. The man’s smooth sex-appeal rubbed his insides just the right way. It grew his arousal and stole his breath away… even if Axel was a little bit predictable in his cheesy lines. “Me wearing nothing at all?” Roxas muttered against Axel’s lips before he took a deep, sucking kiss from Axel.

A rumbling laugh shook out of Axel. The kiss ended and he licked his lips before he gave his silky smooth reply of, “Not entirely. Me wearing you would look amazing.”

Roxas felt cold confusion trickle through him, but the nudge of Axel’s hips, his heated, stiff manhood pushing and nudging between the cleft of Roxas’ cheeks made a fire blaze in Roxas’ chest and got the message across in regards to what the other man meant.

Axel bit against Roxas’ neck, pulling at his skin and licking along the faint scab that the knife to Roxas’ throat had left a week ago. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” Axel’s voice scratched and rumbled thick with heat and lust. His fingers popped open the buttons on Roxas’ shirt.

“I forgive you,” Roxas panted, raking his fingers over Axel’s back with rough desire. 

Axel’s tongue dragged along Roxas’ shoulder and down to his chest and nipples, where he nipped with lips and pulled with teeth, teasing while he hummed with satisfaction over the mewl that rose out of Roxas’ throat. “Talk to me like I want you to,” Axel rumbled, squeezing Roxas with his hands.

“Oh, God, Axel. I want you. I wa-wanna ride you. I wanna scream your name and cum on you and do it all day long,” Roxas cried out in desperation. Years of vigilant quiet and forbidden sex made Roxas break down with a need for the complete opposite. 

A deep rumbling moan of wanton desire left Axel’s throat. “Yeah, do that, my sweet siren. Be as loud as you want. Cuss me and scream my name. No one will hear you—I’ve given all my men shore leave—but even then you can still be as loud as you wanna be.” Axel pressed a harsh kiss to Roxas’ mouth, sucking savagely on Roxas’ tongue for a moment before he pulled off him with a _pop._ He crawled off Roxas, making his way to a gilded bedside stand and pulled something out of the drawer. 

Roxas sat up a little, the shoulders of the unbuttoned and oversized shirt pooling around his elbows. Axel turned around, the smirk he wore sent a pounding pulse through Roxas’ gut. Roxas raked his eyes over Axel’s completely naked body. He had never had the luxury of seeing Axel like this before, which caused him to stare, open-mouthed. 

Axel sat himself down at the head of the bed, with pillows all around. He spread his legs wide, his toes stroking Roxas’ thigh. Roxas rose, discarding the shirt completely and sat on his haunches. His eyes trailed down Axel’s damaged, but-no-less-gorgeous-and-perfect body. His eyes explored and merrily skimmed along Axel’s happy trail, taking in well-defined obliques and abs, and finally feasted on the sight of Axel’s engorged, thick, twitching erection. Roxas had felt it, sucked on it, rubbed it so many times, but he had never lingered on it. A shaky breath of desire left him and he had to wipe at his mouth. His eyes snapped up to look at Axel’s face; lust hanging heavy on his brows, lidding his piercing green eyes and slackening his jaw. He seemed transfixed by Roxas’ stiff and weeping cock.

Axel breathed out leisurely and deeply. He curled his finger at Roxas, beckoning him closer and undid the cork on a small clear flask. Some sort of oil was inside and he poured it out onto Roxas’ held out hands. The liquid dripped and was slightly viscous. Roxas rubbed it between his hands, enjoying the slight floral fragrance that wafted through the air and brushed the palms of his hands over the head of Axel’s erection. “I love your cock, Axel.” The hunger was growing ever more expansive inside himself.

A tight whimper left Axel’s throat and his head tilted back a bit while delight danced on his lips. Roxas massaged Axel’s erection between his hands and then he kept going with only one hand while he slickened himself up with the remains of the oil on his other hand.

“This is going to feel _so_ good,” Roxas muttered, his eyes not wanting to leave Axel’s large penis, though he did close his eyes with the thought of the slow, passionate, and filling stretch that would be his in a few more moments.

Axel let out a shaky, “Yeah,” and licked his lips. “No more spit, no more cum, no more of that weird lotion you always had in your medicine bag. No more awkward dry humping and blowjobs.”

All their lovemaking up until now had mostly been rough, unprepared, and filled with needy desperation. The knowledge of having time and privacy on their hands made Roxas whimper and then chuckle with a thought. “Maybe we can keep the blowjobs.” He smiled at Axel, who huffed out with laughter and nodded. 

Roxas climbed on top of Axel then, rubbing the remaining oil on the other man’s shoulders and down his chest as he felt him up. Axel tipped out some more oil from the flask for himself, coating his fingers and wound his arm behind Roxas, stroking in between his cheeks and pushing gently against his opening. Roxas bucked his hips a little. His heart raced and his pulse throbbed around his groin. Axel’s erection rubbed against Roxas’ backside for a few moments before his fingers pushed into Roxas one at a time. Roxas gasped, and then moaned as Axel skillfully rubbed against Roxas’ pleasure spot, making him arch his back.

A low moan left Roxas’ throat as Axel’s other hand grasped Roxas’ penis and started pumping him slowly. Roxas gripped Axel’s chest, anchoring himself there while he tried to breathe through the crazy pleasure. Axel’s fingers kept to a slow and agonizing pace. Roxas could feel himself loosening around Axel and bit his lip with anticipation. It wasn’t too much longer before Axel’s fingers slipped out of Roxas, and his other hand stopped their dragging and squeezing of Roxas’ shaft, and went to rest on hips, to guide Roxas up and back.

Roxas panted with some force as the head of Axel’s cock rubbed against his opening. Axel moaned with the sensation and they both stayed there, rubbing and teasing each other for a few moments. But then Roxas couldn’t wait any longer. He eased himself down, a low moan seeping out of him as he stretched himself open on the other man erection. Axel’s voice joined in with the vocalization of pleasure. They both panted and sucked in air when Roxas was comfortably sitting on Axel, straddling his sides.

“Your hole,” Axel mumbled. His hands feeling Roxas’ sides up and pulling on his nipples.

“I don’t think I’m going to last too long,” Roxas huffed. He squeezed around Axel’s erection and rocked his hips a little, making himself whimper with how good the pressure felt.

Axel hummed, seemingly to keep the moan inside. “Nothing but quick ruts will do that to us. We got all day. We can do this as many times as you want, Roxas.”

That realization made Roxas shudder with pleasure. “Yeah, that is true. We could do this all day and all night?”

Axel chuckled. “Every day. Every night. For the rest of our lives.”

Roxas moaned, his eyes slipping shut and his head lolling to the side. “All right. I won’t hold back then.”

“Please don’t.”

Roxas took a deep breath and began moving, lifting and lowering himself and shuddering with every roll of his hips. He started slow at first, breathing through the intense feelings and tingles that Axel’s thick girth brought to him. Memories of hard floors, grime, stench, and a constant sense of danger fluttered in his heart. He opened his eyes and looked down at Axel, who smiled up at him, his face awash with joy and delight, his hand rhythmically pumping Roxas in time with the rolls and rocks of his hips and backside against Axel’s cock. This was happiness and peace. This was what Roxas had denied them both for so long.

He leaned down and began kissing Axel on his lips and down his neck while he slowly fucked himself into heady pleasure. He bit down on Axel’s shoulder and moaned loudly, muffling his sound, and then pulled off but kept up the low pitched groan. He rocked harder against Axel, throwing his head back and letting his voice soar and intermingle with Axel’s own cries of delight. 

Axel’s grip on Roxas’ thigh tightened, his stroking of Roxas’ erection became erratic and he gave a harsh shout of Roxas’ name as his back arched. Roxas felt Axel’s release inside himself. He squeezed the man as tight as he could, forcing another, more strangled cry from Axel and then fucked himself savagely on the man he loved. A guttural roar left Roxas as he slammed himself on Axel’s perfectly curved and fat cock, causing pleasure to snap in his gut which sent a powerful shudder through his shaft and backside. Roxas’ fevered pace stopped and he convulsed with every pump of his cum shooting out and covering Axel’s torso. His hands fiercely gripped Axel’s sides, trembled, and his breath ran ragged, while sweat slid down his back, brow, and chest.

“Axel,” he huffed, over and over, until his explosive orgasm faded and the pulsing pleasure stopped pumping out of him.

Axel’s hands wound around Roxas, gently guiding him down against his lean, hot, and sweaty body. Axel held him against his chest with protective and loving strength. His fingers brushed against Roxas’ locks and massaged his scalp. They lay together, awash in each others post-orgasm glow. Happy huffs and puffs left them and with a little bit of time soft kisses were exchanged.

“Thank you for choosing a life with me,” Axel said, his voice catching on exhaustion and delight.

“I should have chosen this years ago. I am so sorry it took so long.”

“Don’t be sorry. The important thing is that we are together at last. Nothing will stop us now. I’ll show you a lifetime of adventure. I’ll keep you safe.”

“If you keeping me safe means being thrown off more cliff-sides I can hardly wait,” Roxas chuckled.

“I had it all under control.” Axel smiled at Roxas.

Roxas sighed. “I am going to choose to believe that because the alternative is way too worrying.”

“I’ve always got _everything_ under control, Roxas.”

Roxas made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat.

“What’s that scoff for?”

“You still ended up being captured that one time. And _one time_ is all it ever takes.” Roxas raised his eyebrows at the other man and gave him a pointed look.

Axel’s brow creased for thoughtful moments, his green eyes peering out the thick glass windows of his cabin to the calm ocean outside. “Y’know… I've never lied to you about anything—except _one_ thing.”

Roxas’ interest piqued. “You lied? About what?”

“That time we met… I wasn’t caught by accident. I let myself be caught.”

Roxas puffed out some air in disbelief.

“It’s true. Sure… that spiked mace to my chest wasn’t planned, but me ending up there was. I’ve only ever been caught unintentionally once, Roxas, and it wasn’t that time. It wasn't by your father.” Axel’s stare returned to Roxas. He brushed at blond hair. 

“When was it then?” Roxas furrowed his brow in confusion and concentration.

Axel rubbed his thumb against Roxas’ forehead, trying to smooth out his frown. “I need to tell you why I was at your old man’s castle. And you’ll probably not like hearing this, but I want you to know.”

Roxas gave Axel a cautious and uncertain look. “Go on,” he said, with faint hesitation.

With a lot of measure in his voice, Axel spoke, sliding his finger down to Roxas’ chin, “I was there because I had a plan. I wanted to kidnap Admiral Lockwood’s eldest son—hold him for ransom.”

Roxas’ eyes widened and a sense of apprehension and disquieted shock caused his heart rate to spike. He pulled away from Axel, rolling off the man and sitting up, but Axel sat up too and caught Roxas’ wrist and held him gently.

“Why’re you telling me this now? Is this… was this all…” Roxas’ head reeled, his vision speckled a little and a high-pitched ringing flooded his ears. There was a sickening lump in his gut comprised of dread and… _betrayal_. 

Axel breathed out a small huff of air. Quietly, he began, “I’m telling you this because the one time— _the only_ time I _ever_ got caught, was when I met you. Your sweet smile and bottomless pit of caring—even for a scabby sea bass like me—by the time you fixed me up I had forgotten all about my plan to get one over your old man.” Axel smiled a little. He reached up and cupped Roxas’ face, stroking gently, “I was bewitched and caught by your eyes, and smile, and… soul. And I kept coming back. I was so young—so dumb. I fell for you, hook, line, and sinker and it all happened way too fast, and I fell so deep. I wanted you with me always. Even at risk to myself… you were all I wanted. You _are_ all I want. All the treasures and plunders mean nothing. Nothing makes me so happy as when I’m with you. Roxas… I completely adore you. I absolutely love you. I never saw you coming, and I know I could never be happier than I am now that you’re with me.”

Roxas looked at their clasped hands and felt incredibly warmed by Axel’s touch. And yet a whirlwind of confusing thoughts blew through his head. “You… were going to use me?”

“Hold you for ransom. Yes.” Axel nodded and looked abashed; chewing his lip and unable to hold Roxas’ gaze at that moment.

“You _swear this_ ,” he squeezed Axel’s hand, “has nothing to do with _that_ time?”

“I swear it on my ship. Even if I held you for ransom I'd never give you back. Please don't be mad, my sea pup.”

Relief washed through Roxas. Axel had never been dishonest or insincere with him before. Roxas had only ever known the man he loved to be _this_ —charming, endearing, adventurous, and rough around the edges in all the ways that got Roxas excited. “I…” he sighed, trying to bite down the smile as he continued, “It was such a long time ago. I… how can I stay mad at you? I have never been able to stay mad at you. I hate you for that, y-y’know?”

Axel laughed a little and then a lot. In turn, Roxas smiled softly and felt a little self-conscious.

“I like it when ya talk all improper like, ‘specially when it’s not during us fucking.” Axel purred and gave a smarmy smirk while wiggling his eyebrows.

Roxas shoved the palm of his hand into Axel's face, pushing him away, but it didn't stop him from feeling flutters of excitement. “I will teach you proper elocution one day.”

Axel pulled the hand off his face but held it. “I’d like that. I like everything you might show me and I’ll take anything you ever give me, my amazing medic.”

Roxas huffed with laughter and rolled his eyes. “I see how it is. You just want me here so I can patch you up whenever you get bludgeoned, stabbed, or shot.”

“Oh dear. I’ve been found out.” Axel smirked and leaned in toward Roxas a little. 

Roxas leaned in the rest of the way and kissed Axel with a lot of love and affection. He pulled away and said, “Thank you for being such a stubborn, in love ratbag. Thank you for making me choose you.”

“I was just too lazy. I didn’t want to go riding a horse _just_ to see you every couple of months.” Axel stuck his tongue out with cheek.

“You could have seen my handsome wife and children too. It could have been a great visit and exploration out into the country. I could even have taught you how to ride a horse.”

“I _know_ how to ride a horse, thank you very much.”

“Anyone can _sit_ on a horse. That does not make a rider.” Roxas grinned.

Axel’s mouth flew open. “ _You…_ cheeky porpoise.” Axel grabbed Roxas around the waist and pushed him down to the bed where he tickled him furiously. 

Both men howled with laughter, rolled around the bed, until Axel fell off, which caused them both to laugh more. Roxas held out his hand to the other man and Axel took it. “See, you’re helping me out already. I knew it was a great idea to wear you down over the years with my good looks and devilish charm.” Axel swept a hand through his hair and let himself be pulled up with Roxas’ help.

“It is more your cock I did not want to go without,” Roxas mused and gave it a tug and a squeeze.

Axel tittered and pulled Roxas close, giving him a tight squeeze and they sat on the bed for a few wordless moments, enjoying running their hands over each other's bodies.

“What will happen to me now?” Roxas ventured while he twirled Axel's locks around his finger.

“You’ll become part of my crew, be my ship's medic. You get special privileges because your captain has an incredible soft spot for you. We’ll go sailing the world and I’ll show you all the things you’ve always dreamed of seeing.” Axel smiled and ran his hands over Roxas’ body.

Axel’s words dripped excitement into Roxas’ chest but it didn’t offset the gathering heaviness which clung to him and which was getting denser by the moment. “I mean with my father.”

Axel’s eyes widened. “Oh…. Well, he thinks you’re dead—plunged down to Davy Jones’ Locker. You’re free and there's nothing to worry about.”

“Dead…” His hand fell away from Axel's hair and a cold dread flushed through Roxas. He gulped and a discomfort knotted his stomach. Axel’s touch was gentle and reassuring against Roxas’ arm, drawing his sullen blue eyes up and off the bed sheets.

“What is my sweet merman worried about? You plunged but you lived, and no one but us and my men know.” Axel’s tone was soft and caring.

Roxas swallowed several times while trying to decide where to start. “Everything! _You_! My mother… I… she must be devastated. My brothers and sister. _Nanny_. The staff. They will all think I am dead?” Roxas was pulled into a tight hug. Axel’s warm skin and firm touch soothed Roxas as if the man were a balm on a sore. Roxas pushed his face against Axel’s chest and sat, surrounded by the hug for a while.

“It’s to keep you safe,” Axel murmured against Roxas’ hair.

“I know that. I just—” A sob squeezed out of his chest. Axel held Roxas a fraction tighter and kissed his forehead. 

“What do you want me to do?” Axel asked.

“I do not know.” Roxas let out a hefty sigh and looked up at Axel who gave him a sympathetic and pitying look. Axel then also let out a heavy sigh, as if Roxas’ mood were infectious and turned his gaze to the window for a while. Roxas rested his head against Axel’s chest and listened to his heartbeat.

“Maybe…” Axel began slowly after a while. “You could write a letter to your mother… if you think she wouldn't tell your father. I could get it delivered to her.” 

Roxas sat up straight and squeezed Axel’s waist with his hand. “You could do that? You _would_ do that for me?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’d do anything for you as long as it keeps us together.” Axel cupped Roxas’ cheek and gave him an intense and loving stare. Roxas leaned into the touch and kissed the palm of Axel’s hand.

“I love you,” he murmured into Axel’s palm.

“I love you too.”

They exchanged soft looks and fleeting kisses.

“I think… I would feel a lot better if I _could_ get a letter to my mother.”

“All right. You can talk to Even and he’ll give you quills and parchment to write on.”

“Thank you.” Roxas gave Axel a big hug and was held in place by the other man.

“Can I ask one thing though?” Axel said.

“Yes. What is it?”

“Can you hold off on the letter writing for a week or two?”

They pulled apart. Roxas tilted his head and frowned a little as he looked at Axel. “Why?”

“Right now this is all very new to you. I want you to take some time to adjust—see how you feel. If it still hurts so much in here,” Axel pressed the palm of his hand over Roxas’ chest, “then, by all means, write the letter and I’ll arrange for it to be delivered. But if you feel differently then don’t write the letter. I think it would protect you more if everyone thought you were dead.”

Roxas nodded and already felt less pained and sad. “I will see how I go.”

A mellow smile settled on Axel’s face. “Thank you.”

Roxas reached up, pulling Axel’s face toward himself and deposited a kiss which led to sharp and indulgent sucks and wandering hands across bare skin. Things got very heated in a matter of mere minutes and Axel had Roxas pressed up against one of the thick posts of the bed while he rocked into him from behind, biting his shoulder while Roxas screamed Axel’s name.

* * *

 

They laid together basking in their warm spent afterglow, trailing fingers over each others torso’s, lightly tickling and fondling. Roxas’ heart rate was still slightly elevated, his breath caught from time to time, and he was so happy, the previous moments' misery forgotten. He thought that maybe, given some time— as Axel had suggested—he wouldn’t feel the need to write the letter after all.

“We’re going to have _such_ amazing adventures, Roxas,” Axel huffed and hummed pleasantly while wearing the softest smile. 

“I can hardly wait,” Roxas grinned at his friend… his captain… his lover. He was so enamored with Axel. The man had always been attractive—his looks, his tales of adventures, his softness whenever he had been with Roxas—it all made Roxas’ chest feel full to the brim with joy, lust, and love. He sighed out the tremendous happiness and said thoughtfully, “Although…”

Axel hummed, encouraging Roxas to continue. 

“I might need to get new clothes. Yours are a _little_ bit too big for me.”

“But you look so cute in my shirts.” Axel pinched Roxas’ cheeks. 

“Shut up, you,” Roxas sneered but it dissolved into a grin. They shared another kiss.

Axel purred and licked his lips. “If you keep talking to me like that… well, how about _one more_ romp in bed and then we’ll go to the port and get you outfitted to look like a real scallywag and make you look more a part of the crew.” 

“One more? We just did it twice,” Roxas laughed heartily.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t want to. We’re both in heat like two feral cats in the alley or you wouldn’t be grinding against me.” Axel smirked, cocked his eyebrow, and glanced down between them.

Roxas stopped his slight thrusting. He hadn’t even noticed that he had been doing that. It was a bit embarrassing but Roxas laughed it off and squeezed Axel’s buttock. “All right. But… ooooh, can I have an eyepatch, like Braig?”

Axel laughed. “You can, but you’re going to find it very annoying when you can’t catch anything that comes flying at you.”

“Like your sea oysters?” Roxas tittered.

A grin flicked onto Axel’s face. “No, I’ll be sure to sink those nice and slow into your mouth, so there won’t be a chance for you to miss.” 

Roxas giggled, licked his lips and then hummed. “Thank you, Axel.”

“For what?” Axel peeled Roxas’ hand off his backside and interlaced their fingers.

“For this wonderful next life with you.”

They both shared a mellow smile. Foreheads pressed together, gentle pecks were exchanged, and those turned into long and deep kisses. Roxas could hardly wait to see what a life at Axel’s side held in store for the both of them. He didn’t think he had ever felt so alive, free, and happy.

_____❤_____

* * *

_**~cream pudding** _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always very appreciated.


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